


if you give me a dozen skipped heartbeats

by orphan_account



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, First Kiss, M/M, a lot of fluff, fresh out of samezuka haru, fresh out of tokyo makoto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 04:49:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m Makoto, uh - Tachibana Makoto, I’ll be starting work here today. Please offer me your guidance,” the tall boy says, bowing, and Haru notices that he has dark eyelashes, darker than his hair, their shadows stretching long against the curve of his cheek.</p>
<p>(A coffeeshop au.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you give me a dozen skipped heartbeats

.

.

.

 

 

01

At 6:57 in the morning the door jingles open and a tall boy slides through dazedly, his brown hair messy and his eyelids heavy.

“Good morning,” he says, voice rising like dough in the oven; it’s a comfortable sort of voice, the kind that pillows words that might sound harsh against the unhappy features of a dissatisfied customer. Haru tilts a mug against his lips - hot water, nothing else - and stays silent, watching.

He’s always on the morning shift, because he is arguably the only one in the entire shop that wakes up early enough in the morning with clear eyes. Usually he works with Nitori, sometimes Rin - if Rin deigns to forego his morning run to do something like _greet people_ and serve them coffee. The morning rush doesn’t hit until around 7:15 in their sleepy town, meaning Haru typically has until then to down three cups of scorching hot water, stick a piece of mackerel into a blueberry scone and nibble at it, and wish with all his might that he was at the pool.

“I’m Makoto, uh - Tachibana Makoto, I’ll be starting work here today. Please offer me your guidance,” the tall boy says, bowing, and Haru notices that he has dark eyelashes, darker than his hair, their shadows stretching long against the curve of his cheek.

“You can set these croissants in rows here,” Haru replies, gesturing for Makoto to come around the counter, and then pointing at the oven, and the baked goods display.

Makoto trips on his way there, long legs tangling, and makes a small noise of surprise and disappointment, eyes widening.

“S-sorry,” comes the warm voice, though it’s shaking a little.

“It’s fine,” Haru says, even though he doesn’t have to. Instead, he sets down the mug safely behind the register and moves to stand next to Makoto, tugging open the oven. A blast of heat hits them in the face and Makoto makes another noise, soft but still surprised, ducking his face in embarrassment.

“I’m - I’m so sorry, umm… Nanase… san?” Haru feels the steady green stare on his name tag for a moment - “This is, ah, my first job,” Makoto explains, and his eyes linger for a moment too long on Haru’s face.

 

 

02

“So you’ve never had coffee,” Haru says, his tone falling flat against the counter, “You’re not a morning person, either, and you’ve spilled ten cups in half as many days.”

It’s a Sunday, the quietest morning of the week where they can almost hear the slosh of the sea through the glass windows, and he and Makoto are placing a tray of scones into the oven. They’re pineapple this time; Haru feels a small rush of exhilaration at the thought of the sweet refreshing taste coupled with the more sturdy, salted one of mackerel.

“I’ve never seen you drink coffee, either,” Makoto laughs, but the laugh turns quickly into an exasperated sigh. “Mackerel again?”

“It’s good,” Haru explains patiently. He’s always explaining things to Makoto, sharing piece by piece how everything works: the little coffee shop, the oven, the world, himself.

“Okay,” Makoto says, “But you shouldn’t eat it for _everything_ , right --- ?”

Haru sets the empty tray down and repeats: “It’s good.”

 

 

03

Makoto doesn’t talk much about himself, Haru notices. Most of their conversations are about the baked goods, about mackerel, about Haru himself. Makoto asks questions so easily, words slipping into the air between them like charms, and his voice slowly becomes something Haru finds himself straining to listen to through the din of the morning rush.

Makoto asks for things in the same way that Rin demands them, or he coaxes them out of Haru (answers, greetings, looks) so gently that it feels like he never asks for anything at all.

“What do you do after work, Nanase-san?” he asks one morning, squinting at a long row of danishes and trying to decide if they’re arranged artistically enough. Haru looks, too, blue gaze trailing after green in a way that’s become surprisingly familiar and automatic over the weeks.

His hand reaches out to shift one of the pastries to the side and his knuckles slide gently under Makoto’s palm. They don’t say anything for a second and Haru realizes that neither of them are breathing.

“You can call me Haru,” he says. “I swim a lot. Freestyle.”

“Ha...ru,” Makoto tries, his face delighted at the way the name sounds in his mouth. “That’s great! I swim, too, not as much as I used to, but…” Something passes over his face, and Haru’s eyes don’t catch the expression in time to make anything out of it. Before he can prompt ( _but_?) Makoto is smiling again, shaking his head slightly. “I got really busy, you know?”

“I don’t,” Haru says, deadpan.

“I had a lot going on in high school,” Makoto explains, and Haru finds himself listening intently. In the past weeks - month, really - he’s told Makoto a lot of things about himself, about his grandmother, and the shrine he lives close to, and Rin and Nitori, too. “I’m taking a year off to work before university.” His smile is almost apologetic, although Haru can’t understand what might possibly be wrong with doing so. After all, isn’t this what he’s doing, too?

He explains this and Makoto looks mildly surprised, out of politeness or something else.

“I thought you took classes in the afternoon, or something,” the taller boy says.

“No, I don’t.”

“Ah, I see,” and his voice is dark gold, like honey, thick and sweet and glittering against the smooth glass surfaces of the shop. “I never see you when I come in during the afternoon.”

Haru feels inexplicably strange at the thought of Makoto behind the counter without him. With Rin or even Mikoshiba, whose boisterous smile sends Nitori skittering into the back towards dish duty. He straightens up and looks towards his mackerel stash. “I’m usually at the pool.”

“Maybe I’ll see Haru-san there sometime,” Makoto says cheerfully, and Haru’s heart skips a beat.

 

 

04

It’s two more weeks before Haru initiates conversation for the first time, when Makoto is bringing a fresh batch of croissants out of the oven and looks more golden and warm than anything in his hand.

“You haven’t come by,” he says. “The pool.”

“Hm? Oh! … Oh, yeah, family things,” Makoto explains vaguely, and yawns before he can cover his mouth. “Excuse me.”

“Have some coffee,” Haru offers.

“I don’t drink coffee!”

“You’re always sleepy in the morning,” Haru mutters, his eyes averted.

“I don’t wake up very well,” Makoto admits.

“Then why do you always work in the morning?”

“I’m new?” Makoto tries, and Haru closes his eyes and thinks, softly in case Makoto can hear his thoughts, _liar_. Makoto probably can tell what he’s thinking, anyway, because he hears a sigh, and then that warm voice says, shyly, “I like working with Haru.”

Haru hears a lot of meanings in that sentence, and he’s afraid to believe any of them. He settles for huffing instead, turning away and blinking into the morning sun.

 

 

05

Haru pauses in front of the door for only a second before he pushes through, and the bell jangles merrily against the glass as he steps into the shop, and looks restlessly at the counter.

Makoto’s there, as expected, along with Rin, who ducks his head down as he leans to pick out a muffin for a mother with two kids. Makoto talks cheerily with the mother, his voice drifting towards Haru’s ears - or perhaps Haru is just straining to listen, again. Rin pops back up to talk, too, his grin wide and sharp around his teeth.

Makoto says something and Rin’s cheeks flare red, and the woman laughs, and Rin places a hand on Makoto’s shoulder and shoves, ever so lightly.

Haru walks calmly up to the counter, cutting everyone in line. “Hey.”

“Oh - hi, Haru!” Makoto exclaims in surprise. “I thought you only - anyway, it’s great to see you.”

“Ah, oh my, this is Nanase-kun?” the woman says, and she smiles. Haru stares at her blankly until she wraps a hand around her son’s wrist and explains, “I’m Makoto’s mother. Ran is having tea time with her friends and we thought we’d stop by and say hello.”

Haru says nothing, but he peers down at the boy, and then the girl, and notes that both of them have pieces of Makoto in their faces, and decides that he likes them both.

“Haru-nii-san’s so pretty,” Ran declares, her grin splitting her face, “Mako-nii should bring him over so we can play sometime.”

Makoto makes a strangled half-laugh noise and starts apologizing, “Sorry, Ran’s really, umm, excited about this tea time, we don’t have a lot of sweets in our house.”

“It’s fine.”

“We should get going!” Makoto’s mother exclaims, handing her son exact change and taking her kids and exiting. Haru looks after them for a moment; Ren’s turned his head at the door, quietly regarding him, and Haru swears the kid actually nodded approval at him, but the moment is gone before he can catch it again.

“Sorry about that again,” Makoto says, sheepish, and Rin rolls his eyes. Haru wonders when they got to be so close, and then wonders why he and Makoto aren’t, because they work the exact same morning shifts, don’t they?

“Didn’t expect to see you here, Nanase,” Rin says, and he and Makoto exchange an honest-to-God _significant look_ , the sort that makes Haru’s blood run cold.

“I was walking by.”

“The pool is the other way.”

“I wasn’t going to the pool,” Haru contradicts, almost petulant, “I was coming here.”

“So you weren’t walking by, were you?” Rin challenges.

Makoto looks confused.

“Do you need help here or what,” Haru mutters, because it is the afternoon rush, and behind him, the people are starting to frown and twitch at having to wait even longer. Not that he cares, much. But Makoto’s eyes peer past his face constantly, anxiety starting to show on his face.

“Yeah, sure, I have an extra shirt in the back,” Rin offers, waving him off and snapping a smile on for the next customer.

Haru makes his way to the back, sees that Rin’s set his things down next to Makoto’s.

Specifically, the extra shirt is half-hidden under Makoto’s jacket. A low noise escapes Haru’s throat as he leans down to retrieve the uniform shirt, shaking out the wrinkles before pulling it on over his T-shirt. He’s seen Makoto in regular clothes maybe twice, once the first morning he walked in, once when he was almost late. Makoto has clothes that wrap well around his broad shoulders - some of the color choices are strange, but they’re all soft and worn, like his smile.

The jacket slips and Haru’s hand darts out to catch it, snatching it out of the air and then folding the sleeves in so that it wouldn’t dangle off and brush against the floor.

For just a second, he nests his face into the fabric, breathes in something clean and comforting, salty sea sand and what might have been coconut shampoo, before he drops the jacket carelessly onto its spot on the bench, his face working to stay neutral.

Why on earth would he be smelling Makoto’s jacket, anyway.

It smelled _good_.

“What the hell are you doing back here, Nanase?” Rin asks, appearing out of nowhere. “Makoto has to leave soon, and Mikoshiba can’t make it here until later, so it’s a good thing you showed up after… “ he trails off suddenly, narrowing his eyes.

“What,” Haru says.

“Just hurry up,” Rin says, and disappears.

Haru follows him immediately, taking a place next to Makoto, who smiles at him uncertainly.

“I’ve never seen Haru in the afternoon,” he remarks, replacing a set of coffee filters, the motion practiced and easy now instead of awkward like it used to be.

“I don’t work here in the afternoon,” Haru says unnecessarily, and next to him Rin chokes back a laugh.

“Chatty today, Nanase.”

Haru takes an order with a completely expressionless face. In another five minutes or so, Makoto’s getting ready to leave.

“See you later, Rin,” he hears as he’s letting chocolate drizzle into a paper cup.

“Yeah, I’ll text you more details,” Rin replies, and then: “It’ll be warm, so you don’t need a coat.”

Makoto slips into the back and Haru’s fingers clench tight around the cup, even though it’s burning him.

 

 

06

Sunday morning again, and this time the rain falls gently into the sidewalk and the shop is lit with fluorescent floor to ceiling lamps to ward off the cloudy grey feeling when Makoto comes in.

“Good morning, Haru,” he says.

Haru swallows the last of his hot water and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and stares, and wonders what it might feel like to press his nose into the dip along Makoto’s neck and breathe in, and see if he really does smell like the sea.

It’s not a _thing_ , or a _habit_ , or a _desire_ or anything, that has Haru surreptitiously seeking out chances to try and catch that scent again, by leaning in close to look at the oven when the other boy is doing the same, and he’s certain that Makoto can at any time point out that after two and a half months of working here he’s pretty well versed in how the oven works, but Makoto never does.

Instead he says, “Thank you, Haru,” every single time, like Haru isn’t deliberately putting himself in the way.

“Rin took me around Iwatobi for a while last night,” Makoto’s saying, “I haven’t really had a chance to go anywhere, since I take a lot of night classes to keep up -”

“Where’d you go?” Haru hears himself asking, his tone flatter than usual.

“Oh, - a lot of places, we went to see some parks, the beach, we stopped by the high school I almost went to, and the place Rin started swimming,” and Makoto laughed softly.

“The high school you almost went to?” Haru asks.

“Yeah, I mean, I’m from Tokyo, so even though I tested in here it wouldn’t have been really logical for me to go to school here, since my parents need a lot of help with Ren and Ran,” Makoto says. “Anyway, it’s just, kind of funny that everyone who works here is a swimmer?”

“We went to school together for swimming,” Haru says.

“Then how’d you end up working at a coffee shop?”

“Rin’s sister used to work here, before she went abroad, and we all needed pocket money.”

“Ah, Kou-chan?”

_Kou-chan_ , Haru thinks, and puts his mug down into the sink and walks off.

 

 

07

The next time Haru comes in to work in the afternoon, he’s earlier, and he tells Rin to go call his sister and see how she’s doing.

“It’s great to see Haru twice in a day,” Makoto smiles.

“Don’t be stupid,” Haru retorts, and takes out a piece of mackerel.

“I’ve never seen you eat anything without mackerel, have I?”

Haru pauses to chew and swallow before he speaks. “It’s good.” Pauses again before he says, “I’ll bring you some tomorrow.”

“... mackerel for breakfast?!”

Makoto’s voice sounds as close to panicked as he’s heard it. He huffs and his breath fluffs up his bangs. “For lunch, then.”

“Ah, but you don’t work here during lunch…”

“Neither do you.”

“So how…?”

“Just come over after work,” and Haru’s eyes peer fleetingly up at Makoto’s before he looks away again, feigning disinterest.

“Um. Okay,” Makoto starts, almost hesitantly, and Haru tries to sneak a glance at his face again, but Makoto’s watching him closely, and he’s caught there, can’t even break free when he sees the beginnings of a smile lighting up the other boy’s face. “I’d lo… I’d like that, thanks.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Haru repeats, softer this time, as he finally focuses on the mug in the sink.

 

 

08

“Wow, this is good,” Makoto says appreciatively, catching a stray grain of rice off his chopsticks. Haru swallows his victory smile in favor of informing him that he should eat more, and drops another piece of fish onto his plate.

Haru’s place is clean and a bit bare, all the video games put away neatly into the cabinet, missing pictures on the walls.

“Rin told me you were kind of a mackerel maniac, and I guess I didn’t believe him fully, but I’m starting to understand,” Makoto laughs, “I can’t cook at all, so this is really amazing.”

“Maybe the stove doesn’t like you,” Haru says.

Makoto gapes at him and then laughs some more. “Maybe! Ran always tells me to learn or find someone to teach me, but my parents don’t really have time.”

“I can teach you,” Haru interjects. “If the stove likes you.”

It only takes a few seconds for Makoto to start laughing yet again, his head tipped back, the green of his eyes tearing up slightly through the mirth. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all day,” he says after he calms down, when the grin that’s too wide for his face relaxes back into his gentle smile.

“It’s not that funny,” Haru mutters, his cheeks flushing pink.

 

 

09

Makoto tells Haru that Rin has a secret love ballad playlist on his music player one morning. “With the kind of slow waltz feeling, and the acoustic guitars,” he adds.

“Did he show you?” Haru asks, curious.

“We traded music players for the weekend,” Makoto explains, “since he wanted some new things to listen to, and I thought it might be a good idea, he has really good running music.”

Haru’s stomach clenches.

“I don’t think he meant for me to discover it, but they’re really - good songs, anyway, he has a lot of English stuff that I can’t really understand, but it sounds great.” Makoto pauses for a moment and then adds, almost shy: “Does Haru like to listen to a lot of music?”

“Not really.”

“Ah, I see,” and Makoto nods as if he really does see, although what he’s seeing, Haru has no idea.

“I don’t have anything to listen to,” Haru elaborates, feeling as if his tongue was being tugged into the air after his words. It hurt, a little. A lot, maybe. He isn’t jealous of Rin or anything, of Rin’s ability to walk up to someone and smile and tug them under his arm and have a friendship spring up out of nowhere. He doesn’t even know if he and Makoto are friends.

“You can borrow my music player,” Makoto offers, and then, smiling: “If you can get the stove to like me.”

Suddenly the sunlight is warm on Haru’s face, even through the cold glass window.

“Maybe,” he mumbles.

 

 

10

Haru’s face is burning into his pillow when he pictures Makoto’s smile, the gentleness in his eyes deepened to tenderness in his mind’s eye.

He calls Rin that night, regretting it almost the minute the redhead picked up.

“Nanase?”

Haru’s heart thunders into his bed, and he doesn’t say anything until Rin’s voice grows a little smaller over the phone. “Na-- Haru?”

“I want to see him,” he finally chokes out, words muffled by his pillow.

“See… him….?” Rin questions, and then, suddenly: “Oh my God, _finally_.” And then Haru hears a little breath of laughter, and then what he thinks is someone asking in the distance, _is everything okay, Rin_?

“I can’t stop seeing him,” Haru says insistently, his throat burning.

“I can’t believe this,” Rin says, “I wondered when you would realize this.”

“I just… I,” Haru says, “I don’t know what to do, Rin.”

“Just ask him out already, God, are you even listening to yourself,” Rin exclaims.

“Ask him out,” Haru repeats.

“Take him out on a date, show him around Iwatobi, go to the pool, you have so many options, get your head out of the water Nanase.”

“I thought you did that already,” Haru mumbles.

“Yeah, but I didn’t give him a goodnight kiss at his door or anything.”

Haru doesn’t really understand, so he stays silent, until Rin huffs and continues talking, impatient: “Look, I’m five hundred percent certain Makoto only actually applied for a job here because of you, so there’s a five hundred percent chance that if you ask him out he’ll do his stupid happy smile thing and hug you and say yes, so just _do it_. I gotta go, Ai-- er, Nitori needs my help with something.”

“... thanks, Rin,” Haru says quietly, and Rin bids him an awkward farewell and hangs up.

 

 

11

After the morning shift Haru waits until Makoto is ready to go, and steps in front of him as he’s trying to walk out the door.

“Let’s go swimming,” he says, “I never saw you at the pool.”

“I - um, okay…” Makoto says, uncertain, but then his body relaxes, “I need to get my swimming things, then.”

Haru follows him home, and Makoto doesn’t object or make excuses otherwise.

They’re still relatively new to Iwatobi, and there are four of them cramped into a smallish apartment still stacked messily full of boxes. Makoto apologizes for the mess on the way in and Haru just shakes his head, slipping off his shoes but waiting at the entry.

Makoto offers Haru a glass of water while he waits, which he accepts, and then they’re off, walking peaceably down the streets, Makoto with an extra towel in his bag. “Do you need to get anything…?”

“I have everything I need,” Haru replies, his eyes carefully on Makoto’s face.

Makoto doesn’t see; he’s crouched down next to a bush all of a sudden. “Good morning,” he croons at the bush, and after a brief moment of wondering about Makoto’s sanity, Haru hears a soft, tiny mewling from the bush. Makoto reaches in and draws out a tiny cat, made even tinier by the size of his hand.

“She’s adorable, isn’t she?” he asks Haru, who stares stonily at it.

“It’s a cat,” he states.

Makoto chuckles and sets the kitten down again. “Sorry, Haru-ch… . .. ….. ah, lead the way.” He looks flustered, which has the knot in Haru’s stomach loosening just a little.

Makoto swims backstroke, Haru discovers, watching as he cuts through the water like an explosion.

“It’s been a while,” he explains, panting slightly as he climbs out of the pool, “I haven’t had a time on my laps or anything since… anyway, it’s been a long time.”

“I never time myself,” Haru replies. “I only swim freestyle.”

It’s been a week since he saw Makoto laugh so openly, so the sight comes as a surprise, sending a stripe of red across his face. To hide it, he dives into the water, hardly a splash, cutting across the corner of the pool and sliding up through the surface smoothly.

Makoto’s stopped laughing now, his eyes wide with wonder.

“What is it,” Haru says, frowning.

“Your form is amazing,” Makoto says, almost softly, and then: “Can you, can you do a lap? I want to see.”

Haru does so without a word, feeling the water almost pushing him along as he swims, wrapping him up in its pliant arms, letting go only when he touches the wall again. It feels good, like always, feels like he left all the tension in his body behind him. But there’s something else there, too, an undercurrent beating in his chest like a clock.

“Wow,” he hears Makoto again, and looks up to see a hand being offered to him. For a moment he doesn’t know what to do.

“Haru, you look so pretty, like a dolphin,” Makoto says excitedly, probably without much thought to what’s coming out of his mouth. Haru takes the hand and pulls himself out of the pool, shaking the water out of his hair. That’s when Makoto goes red, a hand coming to rest at the back of his head. “Ah, I didn’t mean anything weird by that! It’s just, I’ve never seen anyone swim like that, Rin’s not really -”

“You swam with Rin?”

“Just once or twice,” but the excitement dies down rapidly out of Makoto’s tone. “It’s nothing like - with you, or anything like that.”

Haru turns away and disappears into the water again, his head pounding almost as badly as his heart. Above him, he hears a half-muffled cry of his name.

It’s almost a minute before he surfaces again, and he’s almost nose to nose with Makoto.

“Ma --”

It’s a quick gesture, but Makoto’s hand swipes down the side of his face gently, and Haru forgets how to speak.

“Please don’t d-do that Haru,” Makoto says, and he’s shaking, his voice unsteady, “I thought you - weren’t going to come back up for a second, or, or a few seconds, really, I don’t know what -”

“The water won’t hurt me,” Haru says slowly.

“But I don’t know that,” Makoto’s voice is quiet, cracked a little at the end. “I’m…” He takes a breath, “I’m afraid of drowning.”

Haru is silent for a long time, until he opens his mouth and lies: “Who isn’t?”

Drowning might be kind of beautiful, sinking deep into the bluish depths, cradled to sleep in his favorite place in the whole world. He wouldn’t mind drowning. But he would mind, he thinks, if Makoto does too.

Makoto’s smile is weak. “Sorry, that was - weird, or… “

“Don’t be. You’re not weird.”

“Um, thank you…”

Sometimes Haru forgets that he hasn’t known Makoto his whole life, that there are a million stories that he doesn’t know about this boy, who hides hundreds of mysteries behind his smile.

“I won’t let the water hurt me,” he amends, “Or you.”

This time, he thinks he might have seen the tenderness he dreamed of trail hazily across Makoto’s eyes. It’s only there for a moment before the taller boy blinks, and nods, and climbs out of the pool again. Haru follows him, realizes that the shaking is still happening.

“I mean it,” he says, a little more forcefully than he intended to. “I won’t.”

 

 

12

Makoto smiles easily, but Haru slowly comes to differentiate between the ones that are manufactured and automatic, and the ones that he thinks about before they appear.

It’s evening, dark outside already, when he stops by.

No, when he visits. He only had this one destination in mind when he walked out of his door, anyhow.

He hasn’t seen this shop during closing hours for a year now, not since Kou used to work here. It’s quieter than he remembers, just three or four people still lingering over their drinks, faces awash in the glow of their laptops. He can see himself reflected in the window. He looks the same as always, and the moon is at the right angle to shine through his face.

“Haru,” Makoto says, surprised.

“Hi,” he replies, and moves behind the counter to get himself hot water.

“I didn’t know you were working here tonight.”

“I’m not.” Haru lets the water slide into his mouth and leans his head back a little, satisfied and warmed all at once. “I’m here to see you.”

The few stragglers left in the shop slowly take their leave one by one, and Makoto still doesn’t speak until Rin and Nitori emerge from the back, Rin doing a double take when he sees Haru lounging against the counter, Nitori offering a bright smile.

“Nanase-senpai,” he says, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Let’s go clean up, Ai,” Rin interrupts, taking a look at Haru, and then at Makoto, and then dragging the younger boy off, cutting off a protest of “But we were just cleaning up!” Haru stares after them for a second, notices the way Rin’s arm is still wrapped around Nitori’s shoulders.

“I’m glad you’re here, Haru,” Makoto says quietly, and walks off to flip the sign on the door to CLOSED. Haru feels his insides trying to follow and closes his mouth tightly.

He continues drinking his water as Makoto ties up the bags in the trash can and then washes his hands, soap suds trailing along his fingers for forty-five seconds or however long they’re supposed to before being rinsed away.

Haru says: “I’m happy I’m here,” and sets the empty cup into the sink, his shoulder bumping into Makoto’s arm half-intentionally, but neither of them move out of the way.

Makoto’s voice, out of nowhere, calm as the summer sky: “I like you a lot, Haru.”

Haru leans his head against Makoto’s shoulder, and nods, and turns so that his face is against the sleeve, and breathes in. He smells fruity laundry detergent, and the warm, pale sweet scent of the bakery that indicates an afternoon spent near the oven. His smile blazes through his face before he can stop it, all the words he wants to say drawn across the soft lines of his face.

The water is still running, and Makoto has to reach a little awkwardly to shut it off, and his hand is a little damp when it tilts Haru’s chin up.

It’s not a dream: his eyes are soft and green and his mouth is curved a little, but open, as if something too big to be contained is spilling out. Haru watches, his lips parting as the green comes closer and closer, until it flutters closed, and then he can’t see anything at all as he leans into their kiss.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this may or may not warrant a prequel (about rin and nitori, kou, and school, and growing up and making decisions about life) or a sequel (about rei and nagisa and more decisions about life). i had a lot of fun writing while listening to [this mix](http://8tracks.com/tammyhyeong/the-world-as-i-see-it-makoharu) on 8tracks by tammyhyeong, so give it a whirl, if you'd like, and thank you for reading!


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